The Black Rose
by ShadowCatRose
Summary: Welcome to Kirkwall, the City of Chains, where the Veil is dangerously thin, the templars and mages are at each other's throats, and a bunch of self-righteous horn-headed folks are trying to force their religion unto the unsuspecting citizens. Despite all of the chaos, there is one special half-elf in the Alienage, ready to join the mighty Champion to try to set things right...
1. The Black Rose

Chapter 1: The Black Rose

My life has been forever marred by a lack of luck. Sometimes, I wish I was normal.

There's an old tale that everyone in Thedas with half a brain knows, a tale about an immortal witch living in the Korcari Wilds. She goes by many names: The Witch of the Wilds to common folk, _Asha'bellanar_ to the Dalish elves, and Flemeth to anyone that knows her true name. For me, I call her Mother.

Yes, I am one of the daughters to one of the most powerful witches in this world. Well, I wish I wasn't. For one, I wouldn't be only a half-elf. Not many people know it, but yes, I am only half. I don't look it, though. I look like any other elf. Second, I probably wouldn't be an immortal elf. We are a dying breed. They think that we're completely gone, but there are a few of us left. I'm only still here because it's Mother's blood that makes me immortal. It might be nice to be able to retire from this world, but not yet. I'm still not done with it.

Since Flemeth is my mother, that also means, indeed, Morrigan is my sister. Half-sister, to be exact. She's completely human, obviously, while I'm still half-elf. My father was an elf, and Flemeth could be considered to be of the human race, if it wasn't for her massive amount of magical power.

You would be surprised to find out that I like Morrigan more than my own mother. True, I was jealous of her for years because Mother took her into the wilds to be raised while I was left with my father and his Dalish clan. I didn't even meet her until I was older. But, I still like her better because it wasn't her choice to abandon me and end up Mother's favorite.

For so many years, I was the outcast of my clan, and I didn't have a clue why. Father never told me of my origins. I wasn't very fond of him. He didn't like me at all. I was just a burden to him. To add insult to injury, he didn't even give me a Dalish name, or an elf name for that matter. He named me after a damned flower, roses, just because I liked them. He hated my human blood and sought every opportunity to mock me for it, as did everyone else in the clan.

Eventually, I outlasted my Father with my immortality. I grew until I became a young lady, and then time stopped for me, but he kept aging. The strapping young man that had birthed me and intimidated me in my youth became an elderly old man who died a slow, boring death in bed. Because of this, I ran away. My only attachment to this clan of Dalish was gone. The clan would realize sooner or later that I really was different from the rest of them, so it was time for me to move on and seek out answers.

It took me many years for my travels to lead me to the Korcari Wilds. I reunited with my family, and my big sister took it upon herself to teach me the art of shape-shifting. I had become a very gifted spirit healer with the Dalish, but my real talent came with changing my shape, just like Morrigan. That is one of the rare things we had in common.

For many years, I studied with her, learning how to become another creature by changing my form. But, then, Morrigan left. Mother sent her off with some Grey Warden to go save this world from another Blight sweeping across the land. Shortly after, I left to go on my own journey. Without my sister, Mother was becoming unbearable. I had already almost mastered shape-shifting, so it was high time I left. I'd return one day when Morrigan wasn't busy helping the mortals save their world.

I traveled far and wide, using my skills to avoid the darkspawn, as well as any templars. To them, I'd be considered an apostate, and they would show no mercy on a mage using magic that has almost been long forgotten. They don't exactly like my mother or any other witches in the Korcari Wilds, either.

Eventually, I ended up in Kirkwall, the City of Chains. This run-down city would be the perfect place for me to conceal myself. I'd blend in perfectly in the Alienage, and of course, I'd use my spirit healing abilities to help the sick. I may not have liked my Dalish clan that I was born into, but that did not necessarily mean that all elves are bad. I have seen much death in my years, and I wanted to use my abilities to give to the elves. Only the wealthy are cherished in Kirkwall. The poor humans are treated like beasts, and the elves are treated like dirt. There would be a safe haven for any who needed the aid.

I met her in this dark place. At the time, she was the _hahren_, the Elder of the Alienage. She took me into her home when the waiting list for a home in the small elven portion of the city proved to be too long for me to sit idly by and wait. She even kept my mage abilities secret from the templars, who practically run this whole city. I heard the Circle here is terrible. I was glad she was kind-hearted enough to never tell a soul.

Soon enough, she became another mother to me, a better one than Flemeth ever was. I called her _Mamae_, "mother" in the elven tongue. Growing up in a Dalish camp, I know quite a few words and phrases of our language, more than any of these city elves. No other word could do this woman justice. She was so kind to me. She did not deserve the fate she was dealt.

To this day, I still don't understand why she, of all people, would have been killed in this manner. She was such a loving woman, one who would do anything to help anyone in the Alienage, and humans, too. She left her heart and her home wide open to all of Kirkwall.

But, Fate struck her a fatal blow. She was killed by another elf in the Alienage, one who had turned to blood magic, a taboo and highly forbidden art. Using one's blood to make a contract with a Demon…it's utterly disgusting. Using sacrifices for power? A sick game.

This fool had succumbed easily to the whispers in his ear of power, wealth, and anything else he desired. He used the vulnerable woman as a sacrifice. What he did to her…it was…unimaginably horrible. It's still burned into my memory as if I was still there, living the moment over and over again.

I was taught by the Dalish that all life is sacred. Screw that. Blood mages deserved to be eaten alive by Darkspawn, spit out again, and then their remains dumped into a volcano. They are sick, twisted, evil bastards. So, I used my own powers to kill him. I do not revel in the taking of a life, but when I kill a blood mage, it makes me feel slightly better that I've ridden the world of one more monster.

With her gone, life became quite empty for me in Kirkwall. I went through the motions, healing anyone that came to the secret clinic I once shared with my _Mamae_, but it just wasn't the same without her. I was almost ready to move on again, but another Blight was approaching, and I had a feeling this city would need me the most in the next few years.

If only I knew how correct my decision was when I decided to stay in Kirkwall.


	2. Wounded Wolf

Chapter 2: Wounded Wolf

"Rose, are you here…?"

"Yes, I am. What seems to be the trouble this time, Netalya?" I shuffled over to the creaky old wooden door and opened it to see one of my many neighbors, standing there and holding a small boy, her son, in her arms.

"My child…he may have gotten sick…"

"I'll take a look. Bring him in." I moved to let her inside while I shuffled into my bedroom to go retrieve The Staff of Parlathan. This would greatly help me to channel my magic for any healing that was required.

As I hurriedly left the room, I spotted my reflection in the cracked mirror hanging up on my wall. It made my face look a bit out of sorts, but I could still make out the image of the young pale-skinned elf with waist-length hair of ebony staring back at me with bright blue eyes. Thanks to the mirror, I noticed I had a cobweb from Andraste knows where (Yes, I do believe in the human religion, as well as the Maker, despite the fact I'm an elf) sitting on my shoulder and dirtying up my shoulder-less dark red dress with large sleeves, with the black corset around my torso. I'd look like I was wearing the dress of a mage, if the hem wasn't shortened to reach just above my knees. My knees were the only part of my legs showing, for the rest was covered in tall and thick leather boots. I'm just used to short skirts. It helps me move comfortably without a bunch of bulky fabric weighing me down.

Pulling myself from my observational thoughts and dusting the cobweb off, I returned to the living room that served as my "clinic". It only had a cot resting on the floor. The back of the room was reserved for a bookshelf, mostly empty except for a rather small collection of books, as well as a table so I could sit down and eat once in a while.

I didn't need much time to give the worried mother a diagnosis; he was only suffering from a slight cold. But, my poor neighbor does tend to overreact a little bit when it comes to her child. Still, I used some of last remaining mana I had to improve his condition and help speed up his recovery with my spirit healing, calling upon the benevolent spirits of the Fade to aid me. Magic does some wondrous things, doesn't it? Now, if only people could use it to help others instead of using it for selfish matters, we wouldn't need the Circle, or the templars for that matter.

She left shortly after, and I was alone again to recuperate after using quite a bit of mana to heal the sick or injured elves of the Alienage. There are just so many of them; sometimes it gets a little exhausting. I was tempted to drink one of the blue lyrium potions I had hiding in a drawer of my nightstand in my room, but I dismissed that. I still had enough energy to spare in case I had another patient come into my home during the night.

I settled down at my dining table with one of the books from my small and hardly used bookcase and began to read. Usually, I'd stay up quite late, just to make sure my patients were taken care of for the day. I could do with the rest, but it's hard for me to sleep these days, anyway. Sleeping meant dreaming, and dreaming meant seeing the dark faces in my nightmares.

Today was just about to get a little more exciting. Before I even had a chance to get past the first chapter, I heard a bunch of loud noises outside. What in the Maker's name was going on? I snapped the book shut and trudged over to the door, daring a peek out of the curtained window on my door.

Even with my elf eyes, I couldn't see much, but there were shadows moving in the darkness. I froze at the sound of clanging metal. There was another fight going on. If I had to go break up another pair of fighting drunken elves or any violent _shemlen_, I was not going to be happy. Last time I did, the Carta almost got involved. I don't want a gang of thugs showing up at my doorstep.

Against my better judgment, I snatched my black cloak off of the wall, threw it on, yanked the hood up, grabbed my staff, and swiftly came out of the small hut I call my home. It was pitch black in the middle of the night, but with the stupid door out of the way, I could see exactly what was going on. The sight, well…the sight of this surprised me. I could only stop and stare for a moment.

Underneath the great tree in the middle of our Alienage, one elf was fighting off what I guessed to be Tevinter Imperium slavers, by the look of their armor. If they were here to collect new slaves, they had better get out of Kirkwall. Slavery is illegal everywhere now except for the Tevinter Imperium, where the Magisters rule.

I can't stand slavers, or Magisters, for that matter. To take away one's freedom is to strip them of their lives. One cannot truly be alive if they are forced into serving another, day and night. Besides, the tall elf man looked like he could use help, and they hadn't noticed me yet. I suppose I could lend him a hand.

With a smirk, I dropped to the ground on all fours as I used my magic to shift my shape into that of a white tiger. I hadn't shape-shifted in so long, I missed the feeling of standing on paws. Now that I was completely prepared, I dashed into the fray, tackling the closest slaver about to attack him to the ground and tearing into his neck with my teeth. Once again, I don't like killing, but getting rid of slavers ranks just under killing blood mages on my list of people that I don't mind slaughtering. Violently.

"Andraste's ass, what is that!?"

"Where did a tiger come from?! Kill it!" I'd taken them completely by surprise. Even the elf man had stopped his fighting to watch as I came out of nowhere and already killed a slaver. One of the bastards swung a dagger at me, but I skillfully darted out of the way and tackled him from another angle, also quickly ending that one's life with a tear to the throat.

Another one came at me with a greatsword, but the elf resumed battle and came to my aid, blocking the attack with his sword. For thin creatures such as elves, usually wielding a greatsword is a challenge, but he pulled it off. He almost made it look easy. That was quite impressive. I couldn't help but let a smirk cross my face as I teamed up with the fellow elf to take down the slavers.

We watched each other's backs, and with our skills, eventually we killed them all using sword, fang, and claw. The rest ran away like a bunch of cowards.

I glanced over to the elf as his arm phased through the chest of the last soldier to finish the battle, and I heard the sick squishing sound of something being crushed, most likely the poor man's heart.

That was…unusual. How in the world had he done that? He does not have a connection with the Fade, like all mages do, so he didn't just perform magic.

Oh, wait a moment. The markings all over his skin, of course! How he survived being tattooed all over with pure lyrium, I have no idea, but he was covered in the white markings from head to foot. They stood out plainly on his fair elven skin. It gave him a more threatening appearance, and combined with his silver hair and tight black body armor, he looked almost ethereal in the moonlight.

"Now, where in the world did you come from…?" He turned and looked at me after the fight was over, confusion written in his emerald green eyes. I sat down and cocked my head to the side, observing him as he observed me. For a while, we sat there, staring at each other. The inquisitive look on his face while he tried to wrap his head around the situation was actually kind of amusing.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard him groan, accompanied with the smell of blood reaching my sensitive cat nostrils. _Maker's breath, he got injured!_ He leaned heavily on the wall of one of the houses while I silently padded over to him. I know it wasn't a good idea to reveal to him the fact that I am a shape-shifter, but he's hurt. I don't know what his intentions are…but I have no choice. I'm not going to sit here and just watch him bleed. That wound does look really bad. Besides, who else was going to help him, if not me?

So, I shifted my form back to my usual self once again and kneeled in front of him. He glanced up as I changed, and his eyes widened as he realized that the white tiger wasn't a tiger at all.

"Mage…" He practically spat the word in disgust as he connected two and two together. His thin form started to move away from me, but with a wince and a growl, he stopped moving. The pain in his shoulder was probably getting worse.

"I take it you really don't like mages. No matter. That wound isn't going to fix itself. Come along, then." I reached my hands out to help him stand, but he backed away from me.

"Get away, mage! I do not need your assistance."

"Obviously, you do." I shook my head at him. "Those slavers might come back, and you're not going to be able to put up much of a fight with that shoulder, now come on! Besides, you don't want to end up explaining to the guards why slavers are chasing you anyway, right?" Begrudgingly, he stopped fighting me as I supported most of his weight and led him towards my house. We had to retrieve his greatsword along the way, which made him even heavier, but I managed to slip him into my place.

Instead of settling him down on the cot in the living room, I went over to the small bookcase and pushed it aside using my staff. Because of the light weight and lack of books, it made the perfect cover for the secret hatch hidden on the floor. I had to pull it open using the short blade at the end of the staff, but once it was open; it revealed a small hidden staircase that led down to a basement.

I half-dragged him along as we entered the darkness of the hidden room. This had been used a long time ago as a place of storage for _Mamae_, but I cleared it out and decided to use it for such occasions where I needed to hide for a little while, or I had a patient that needed to hide. I laid him on the cot in the corner of the room, and then I fumbled around in the darkness as I made my way back up to the upper floor for a candle.

When I came back, pulled my hood down, and checked on him, he was really out of it. The blood loss must have been getting to him. The wound was actually a lot worse than I thought. Somebody must have struck him with an arrow, because there was an arrowhead with the shaft broken off embedded in his shoulder. He must have broken it off himself. _Must have been a surprise attack…besides this, he's only got a few nicks and cuts…_

My thin hands fluttered across the wound as they started to glow blue. _Let's hope I can completely close this up before I run out of mana. I'm guessing he'll want to be up and around so he can get out of here as soon as possible. It is apparent to me he has a high dislike for mages. _Maybe high dislike wasn't a strong enough word. It was leaning more towards hate. The look in his eyes when he found out I'm a mage, it was almost like he was ready to murder me.

Though, I kind of understood. If he's involved with slavers, he's dealt with Magisters, which are mages of the worst kind. They turn to blood magic so often to gain a leg-up over other Magisters, it's not even funny. The slimy bastards will do anything for more power, making them easy prey for demons.

Sighing, I focused on the task at hand as I poured mana into healing that nasty wound. The faster I did, the less blood he would lose and the faster it would take for him to recover. I just wish I'd been there sooner to prevent this nasty injury.

…..

It was daybreak by the time I finished. I could see light slipping through the cracks in the hatch up at the top of the stairs. At least I was done. The wound was completely closed up, but I put a bandage over it, just to protect it. He'd fallen asleep within a few minutes after I started, and he was still sleeping. I took this opportunity to inspect the lyrium markings etched into his skin.

_Why would he have wanted something like this…? Lyrium is dangerous. Its magical properties are so powerful…that's why they only use a small amount of lyrium for potions to restore a mage's mana…or is it that he didn't want these…? It must have been so painful for these to have been put onto his skin…it's almost like he was branded with them. I wonder if they just hurt in general…_

Where he'd been hit with an arrow was where some of the markings were, but it looks like that was going to heal, too, without the worry of scars to mess up the markings. I doubted he was going to have any scars at all because of the lyrium. He was healing at a better rate than any normal elf. _How could something so beautiful be so dangerous…? This world is odd._

I shook my head and stood. _I've nearly run out of bandages because of him. I'll need to get some more, in case I need to change them._ With a sigh, I made my way up the stairs and left, closing the hatch behind me. I didn't replace the bookcase, though. If someone did break in, they would see the hatch and find him, but if I did move it back and he wakes up, he probably wouldn't be too happy to find his way out barred. People in the Alienage know me as the benevolent doctor, so they'd keep an eye on the place while I was gone. Without their free clinic, many of them would be in some serious trouble without the money to pay for an actual visit to their local healer. But, just to make sure, I put a protective ward on the door of the basement, so he could not be located by magical means, at least.

As I reached for my cloak on the wall, I laughed when I realized that I was actually still wearing it from last night. I'd need it anyway, a bit of his blood splattered onto one of the sleeves of my dress when I was helping him inside. I had no time to wash it right now; there were more important things to be done. Quickly, I set out to the markets to go fetch more bandages. Thanks to the occasional donation from other elves with a bit more coin on them, I'm usually able to buy what I need when it comes to lyrium potions and bandages. Now, food, that was a bit harder. It's why I hardly ever ate. I'd try to manage my money as best as I could with what little I had.

On my way, though, I stopped. Something wasn't right; I could feel it in my bones. Usually, I had this feeling when I was being followed. Or I was just about to be ambushed by a pack of slavers.

Why is it always me that gets the worst end of the deal?

…..

"Fenris, where in the Maker's name were you last night!? You never showed up to help Isabela and I earn more coin for the Deep Roads trip." A muscular dark-haired woman was sitting in the Hanged Man with a mug of ale in her hands, raising a questioning eyebrow at her companion.

"I was **busy**, Hawke. Nothing for you to be concerned about." The elf sitting across from her sipped at his own mug, his usual brooding expression on his face.

"That's not nothing." Fenris followed Marian's gaze to his injured shoulder and sighed.

"I…don't wish to talk about it…"

"Ah, all right, then." The human scrunched her nose up, making the red war paint streaked across her nose look funny. She understood completely. Fenris was never one to hide anything, so it must have been something personal he wasn't ready to speak of just yet. "You know I'm all ears if you need someone to talk to."

"I appreciate that, Hawke…" He was silent for a long time, sipping at his drink. The elf was clearly deep in thought. Something was bothering him; he was brooding more than usual.

Just then, a stout beardless dwarf wandered over to the table with a pint in his hands. "Cheer up, Elf. What's he brooding about this time, Hawke?"

Their knife-eared companion glared at both of them with an icy stare. "I do not brood, dwarf."

Human and dwarf eyes exchanged glances before shaking their heads in unison at the slender figure on the other side of the table. No matter how many times he said he didn't brood, everybody else knew that's what he spent the majority of his time doing when he wasn't helping Hawke to "repay his debt".

"Look, whatever it is that's bothering you, we'll listen. None of it will leave this bar, and it especially won't get to Blondie."

"Varric, let it go…"

Suddenly, Fenris looked up at both of them. "As long as you don't tell the **mages**…" He spat the word out like he'd just downed a pint of darkspawn toxins instead of ale. "I ran into more slavers last night in the Alienage."

Hawke nodded. "Explains the shoulder injury. If Anders didn't heal that, who patched you up…?"

"…A…mage…came to aid me…it was an ambush, they caught me by surprise!" He nearly cracked the table with the fist he pounded on it. The last part of the sentence sounded defensive, like he didn't want to admit he needed the help of a magic user to defeat a group of slavers.

The dwarf raised an eyebrow at him in curiosity. "So, you're brooding because a mage saved you? Maybe your misconceptions about them aren't completely true." With a smirk, he crossed his thick arms over his broad chest and chuckled. "I keep telling you, mages aren't as bad as you think. There are a lot of bad mages out there, trust me, but there are a few good ones. I know you don't like Blondie, but at least he tries to do some good with that clinic of his."

Hawke nodded in agreement. "My sister helped you out as well when we went after Danarius. Anders isn't so bad, even though he's stuck with Justice. Merrill, well…" The sentence trailed off. She couldn't really say she counted Merrill as one of the good mages. Sure, her intentions were pure, but she still used blood magic. That's why hardly anyone in the "Hawke group" liked her, except Varric because of her friendly attitude towards everyone.

Fenris shook his head and chugged down the rest of his drink before he set the empty mug on the table. "This was different. Do you know much about mages that can shift their form into animals…?"

More eyebrow-raising from Hawke. "Besides Flemeth, whom you've met, I don't know anyone else personally that can do that. It's an ancient practice of magic that's practically been forgotten, or so Father told Bethany when she was learning from him."

Varric shook his head. "I didn't even know that kind of magic existed until Hawke here introduced me to the old hag. Changing into a dragon, that was impressive…why do you ask?"

"She used that magic…such a gifted mage, living in the Alienage of all places, and coming to my aid…? Then she just vanishes the next morning…" It appeared that the elf couldn't wrap his head around it. It was his assumption that a strong mage like that with such a talent would have been easily accepted as an apprentice to a Magister. Why was she hiding out in Kirkwall instead? Maybe she was like Bethany…one of the rare mages that aren't always after power.

Marian Hawke was stunned into silence, but Varric's tongue kept running before his brain caught up with him.

"Wait, so it was a **girl** mage that came to help you. Hmmm…" A sly grin came across his face as he no doubt was having many perverted thoughts. "Maybe you're just so confused because you want to…" The dirty-minded dwarf was knocked on his ass by a strong punch from Hawke.

"Maker's breath, Varric, for once, shut up." She rolled her eyes. "I don't know why you are so set on seeing mages as terrible beings, Fenris. One of these days, you are going to have to get over it. There's nothing we can really do to change the way things are. If you can't beat 'em, make a truce. Now, about the expedition…" She quickly changed the subject to get Fenris's mind off of the mage. He probably wouldn't linger on it too long.

Probably.


	3. Battle the Devil

Chapter 3: Battle the Devil

_**Three Years Later…**_

I miss the Alienage. I miss the sunshine. I miss just being outside. But, he won't let me leave the mansion. He won't risk me trying to run away again. These days, he never even lets me out of my cell in the basement.

The last few years of my life have been utter hell. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret not giving up where I'd hidden the elf, but the punishment was almost unbearable. That bastard, Danarius or whatever, a Tevinter Magister, gave me as a gift to a Magister hiding out in Kirkwall, the disgusting _shemlen_. I'm a slave, illegally. He wouldn't just dispose of me because of my magical abilities. He'd bribed me and threatened me into teaching him how to shape-shift, but he couldn't break me. None of them could.

Except maybe of course my "Master", Marcus. This man had been taught a rare kind of blood magic that allows the caster to use something akin to mind control on his victims. With the strength of his magic, I could not break his hold on me by myself. He only dragged me out of this filthy cage when he wanted some amusement. If he wanted somebody killed, he had his servants drag me out, kicking and screaming. If he wanted someone to beat just to enjoy their pain, he also dragged me out.

They'll learn, they can't cage me forever. Seems like I'll have to teach them the hard way, too.

Speak of the devil, here come a pair of his guards now to drag me out of my cell. No, literally, they had to drag me. My body is in a poor state from being inactive most of the day and barely getting any food or rest. I can hardly put up a fight anymore. I used to fight them back like crazy. The first time I tried it, I actually found my belongings that had been confiscated upon my arrival (my clothes and my staff) and nearly escaped. Now, I've got no fight left in me. I'm just a shell of what I once was. I'd given up escaping when they shifter-proofed my cell. A steel room with a solid iron door instead of a cage worked just fine to keep me in. I should have learned a few insect transformations when I had the chance.

We passed a mirror in the hall and I glanced at the ghostly pale, gaunt and unhealthy face staring back at me. I'm covered in dirt, I smell horrible, I haven't brushed my hair in years, and I hadn't received any new clothes since my last "slave uniform" became so ripped and tattered that it was considered indecent for me to wear. What I have now is hardly any better. The dull gray color of the torn-up dress made me look even paler.

I glanced away at the horrible sight of myself. I couldn't even stand to look at that face any longer. Over the past few months, I'd even attempted to take my own life, since I can't die of old age. Starvation hadn't worked, Marcus had forced me to eat. My meals no longer came with utensils when I tried to slit my own throat. My cot was gone, as well as my blankets, since I tried to strangle myself with anything but my clothes.

_What is it this time? I hope he's going to let his guards beat me again. My body can't handle much more…_ But, that wasn't going to be the case. The two large guards pulled me through a door and into the grand entrance of the house, where Marcus was standing on the second floor landing with a glass of wine in his hands, looking down at our guests on the lower floor. I didn't even look at them. I'd have to kill them soon, anyway.

"Ah, it's about time, you fools. Sorry, my dear Hawke, but I will not be your opponent today." The red-headed man, dressed to impress in his fine clothes, crossed his arms over his chest as one of his fingers tapped his wine glass, brown eyes surveying the small group below.

"It looks like Aveline was right, he is harboring illegal slaves, from what we've seen of the house already. I suggest you surrender yourself, Mr. Allen. The captain of the guard and her men will be arriving any minute."

"Unfortunately for you, you shall be dead and I will be long gone." A smirk crossed his angular face as he glanced at me. I didn't even try to resist his magic as he took it upon himself to invade my free will. I stood up, not of my own accord, and tromped down the stairs clumsily. "This is your opponent. I'd like to say it was nice knowing you, but it hasn't."

The group in front of me readied their weapons as I stopped at the bottom of the staircase on the right side of the room. Freedom was right there, the door to the mansion was right behind them, but I had no strength to fight. Gazing at the people who would soon be dead, my mind practically slapped itself.

In this small band of people, there was a tall muscular human woman, a short dwarf with an odd-looking crossbow, a human male mage, and the last one, which got my attention: a fellow elf, covered in lyrium markings. It was definitely the elf I'd saved. He inconsequentially was responsible for the position I was in, but I didn't blame him. It wasn't his fault.

Marcus's magic was overpowering, but for once in a long time, I tried fighting back against the dark powers of the Magister, to no avail. _I can't kill him, are you bloody kidding me!? You've forced me to kill mostly bandits, your failed apprentices, or mercenaries, but not somebody I know. I will not allow you to get away with this, shemlen!_

Despite my mind protesting against my body, I still shifted into my white tiger form and charged at them. All of them froze for a split second in surprise, which usually meant that the kill was mine and it would be instant victory for me. But, the elf sprang into action, getting between me and the apparent leader of this group, the human female. I ended up being forced back by the mighty swing of his greatsword landing a direct hit onto my left shoulder.

The dwarf was freaking out. "By the Maker, what the hell is that thing!?"

"A mage…" The elf narrowed his eyes at me dangerously as he readied his weapon to attack me again. Great, now I'm giving him another reason to hate me. I struggled harder to break out of the Magister's grip, but it wasn't working. Did they even have any idea that I wasn't doing this of my own free will?

"Fenris, stop." The blonde mage placed a hand on the elf's shoulder, gripping it tightly. "Do not fault her. This is not of her doing."

"What are you going on about now, mage!?" Fenris turned to his companion and practically roared out his question in fury. Wow, he really is pissed at me.

"The Magister. He's using blood magic to control her and she cannot break it, not without help. Remember what happened with that other blood mage last month? This is the same thing. Allow me." He slammed the end of his staff on the ground just as Marcus forced me to jump and attack the mage to make sure he didn't break the spell on me, but he didn't give the order fast enough with his magic. With both of our energies combined, the hold on me was quickly broken.

Now in control, I hit the ground instead, quickly shifting back to my true self. The mage quickly joined me on his knees, trying to help me up. With a swift inspection, he frowned. "Hawke, she's not doing too well, unlike the rest of this bastard's slaves."

"Great work, Anders. We'll make this quick." The woman, Hawke, glanced up at Marcus. "You're really asking to be executed, but I'll give you one last chance to peacefully surrender. You're under arrest, Mr. Allen."

"I don't think so, Hawke." In one quick move, he pulled a dagger out of his pocket and slit his hand, soaking the blade in blood, and then he summoned a group of Shades, accompanied by two Rage Demons.

"Kill them all. The elf girl is of no use to me anymore. She was just a gift from Danarius, it's not a total loss." He retreated into one of the corridors upstairs, his guards following close behind.

I growled like an animal as the demons made their way towards us. Today was just not my day. Well, at least the Magister was gone. Without a moment's hesitation, I shifted once again into my white tiger form. I don't know how much use I would be, since my physical state effects the physical state of my transformations, but there was no harm in trying. I had to help out.

Fenris, already in a foul mood, charged into battle with his greatsword, headed for one of the Rage Demons. The dwarf started picking off shades with his crossbow, somehow automatically firing arrows at the enemies rapidly. Hawke was going to take the other Rage Demon, while Anders was nuking the hell out of the Shades with his magic spells, helping the dwarf out. I just jumped into the battle to help cut down their numbers.

It was difficult work for my weakened body, and I ended up getting a few slashes from the Shades on my body. We were down to just the Rage Demons, which both greatsword wielders were taking on the brunt of their brutal attacks. With the rogue dwarf and the other mage stepping in, we obliterated the beasts.

By the Maker, I was completely worn out. I shifted my form again and hobbled over to the other people. Well, at least I was saved. "Thank you, all of you." I owed them at least that much.

"Are you all right?"

I glanced over to Hawke. "I'll be fine, thank you." _I need to find my things and go see if my home is still standing…_"Please excuse me, I have to go find my staff…"

While I went to search, meanwhile, the others split up. It looked like Hawke, Anders, and the dwarf was going to explore the mansion, probably for clues as to where Marcus had gone, while Fenris just flat out left the building.

….

After I found my things and stuffed them in a pack to take home, I followed Fenris outside. He was sitting on the low stone wall that surrounded the manor, and he seemed deep in thought. I cautiously sat down several inches away from him and waited, hoping he would say something first. This reunion was really awkward, to say the least. _What can I say…? I should really apologize first…_

"Listen, I…I'm sorry I attacked you. It wasn't of my own accord." My eyes wandered to my staff as I observed it. It really needed a few repairs. Somebody had been using it while I was "preoccupied". The long blade at the end needed a good sharpening as well.

"There is no need to apologize for that. I didn't understand you weren't yourself until the abomination said something." I glanced over at him, and he was staring at his armor-clad hands, clasped in his lap. "How did you manage to end up here…?" Finally, he looked up at me, curiosity etched into his elven face.

"…Imperial bounty hunters…" I wasn't going to tell them that they had been sent by a man that knew him, looking for the location of "his property" after he'd heard about what had happened in the Alienage the night before. One of the mage slavers were actually working under him and reported the incident after he escaped our wrath. I would say nothing more, for I feared he would be terribly guilty over what had occurred because I helped him.

He must have been able to put two and two together, because he sighed heavily. "This is somewhat my fault, isn't it? Danarius was looking for me, and when he was done with you, he used you as a present to make peace with that Magister."

Damn, he caught on quick. "It was not your fault. Do not even worry about such things. I'm just glad those slavers didn't catch you, and that you didn't bleed out in the middle of the street. That was a rather nasty wound you had. Danarius…he tried bribing and threatening me, but I'm not stupid enough to turn a slave in to those bastard Tevinters. Slavery is sickening. I wish I could give you good news and tell you that Danarius is in the city, but he is not. He left shortly after I was presented to Marcus…that was almost three years ago now, if I kept track of time correctly."

A surprised look came over his face momentarily, but he looked away as quick as it came. What was he thinking…? I was curious. It had been a long time since I had held an actual conversation with anyone. I don't exactly talk to my patients past what my work required of me.

Time to change the subject. "Are the markings really lyrium…? I-I don't mean to pry…it's just…that must have been a terrible experience for you…"

He turned back to me with a grim look. "They are lyrium, branded onto my skin. And, yes, the pain was…excruciating." He shook his head and turned to look at his hands, flipping them over to see the white lines stretching across the palms towards his fingers. "They still bring me constant pain, especially when touched. They'll never let me forget that day…"

"That's…awful. Power like that isn't worth such a cost." _Like being a mage isn't worth slowly losing your sanity. I wonder why I ever chose to move to Kirkwall. The Veil is dangerously thin here._ "This Danarius fellow…why does he want you so badly? I mean, it's obvious you are no longer his slave. Why does he want you back…?"

"He doesn't want me; he wants the markings on my skin, even if he has to rip the flesh from my corpse. I escaped him many years ago…he always seems to find me, no matter where I turn. It could be the markings."

We were silent for a little while, until he asked me an odd question.

"…So, what kind of mage are you?" I turned to him with an eyebrow raised. Well, that was an unusual question. I thought about it for a moment, glancing down at my bare feet, before looking back up and answering him.

"To be honest, I'm a mage that wishes she wasn't. Like I said, some power isn't worth the cost. But, I have to manage the cards I was dealt. I do what good I can with the "gifts" I've been given. Hmph, gift, my ass. More like a curse. Magic is useful, but many cannot even fathom the danger it brings. Weak-minded fools shouldn't be given such power. That's how we end up with blood mages." Because of my last encounter with a blood mage that ended the life of my _Mamae_, it altered my naïve view of magic.

"Not the answer I would have expected of a mage. You sound more like a templar." He chuckled a bit. Somehow, I'd lightened the mood with his answer.

"I don't agree with the templars either. It makes sense that the tighter they make the collar, the more a beast will rebel and try to break free. You haven't seen how corrupt their organization can become. They think they are the symbol of justice, but they're not, they're just as power hungry as blood mages. I do believe that education to defend mages from the influence of demons is important; I don't mind mages entering the Circle, even though I myself am an apostate. They just don't realize I was formerly Dalish, and I have the restraint necessary to overcome the influence of those pathetic demons. They should treat the Circle mages better, though…

"But, back to the one thing I don't agree with when it comes to templars. Becoming Tranquil…it's inhumane. You strip mortals of their emotions, and they become puppets for the templars to be used. The act of it disgusts me. They become even less than an animal. At least animals feel. Templars are sick. Just because you **can** do something, doesn't mean you should do it. Death for the Tranquil is a mercy. It's not really living anymore."

He seemed to ponder that for a moment, and we fell into a bit of a comfortable silence. The two of us were quiet, until Hawke and her companions left the manor, with their leader sighing.

"Not a damned clue as to where he could have gone…Aveline is going to have a fit when her guards go through this mess. Did you see her face when she found out that they arrived in the back doors too late? She's going to beat herself up over it for weeks." The woman seemed a lot more cheery now that all of us were out of danger.

The dwarf nodded. "Well, now that all of that blood mage bullshit has been taken care of, what are we going to do with our new elf friend…?" He gestured towards me with his thumb as he looked up at Hawke.

"Oh, there's no need to worry over me. I'll be heading home as soon as possible…if it hasn't been given to elves that need it more than a missing elf did…" My poor neighbors, what had they done while I was gone, without my clinic? I hoped everyone was all right.

"I could look into that for you. It would be best to stay away from your home for a while until things cool down here. Besides, if your home is occupied, I can't just leave you to fend for yourself, especially when you're that skinny." She was gesturing to the rather nasty physical state I was in. I probably looked terrible to them. "You can stay with me, if you wish. I have plenty of room at my estate."

Fenris suddenly stood from his seat and shook his head. "No, Hawke. I insist that she stays with me."

All three of his companions raised their eyebrows in utter surprise. I was stunned into speechlessness, not knowing what to make of the situation. The dwarf started laughing.

"The Elf, inviting a mage, a **female**, no less, into his run-down home? Andraste's tits, is another Blight coming?" From his tone, he was clearly joking, but the "Elf" wasn't too happy about his comment.

"I owe her a debt." So that's what it was about. He technically owed me two, since I rescued him from slavers raiding the Alienage as well as kept his location a secret, which ended badly for me, obviously. But, I'm not going to hold it against him, really.

Hawke seemed to have a look of realization come over her face. "Wait a moment…a female elf with shape-shifting magic? Is she that elf you were talking about in the Hanged Man a few years ago…?"

The warrior elf nodded. "The loss of her home is somewhat on my shoulders. I cannot let her go with you, Hawke. You already have to take care of your mother, those dwarves, and Bethany if she ever returns from the Circle."

"Are you sure about this, Fenris? You know your home is a total shithole." Anders chuckled a bit and crossed his arms over his chest. "You live in a mansion, yet it's gone to the Void. You never clean it."

"You live in Darktown, in the sewers under the city, and you call **my** home a shithole? Living like a rat does not appeal to me in the slightest." Fenris now had the upper hand and smirked at Anders as his laughter quickly shifted into a frown.

Okay, time to diffuse the situation heating up between the angry elf whose markings are now glowing, and the mage who is sparkling with blue energy of the likes I have never seen. I stood from my spot and took a few steps in between them to try to talk some sense into the arguing pair, but things didn't go exactly the way I planned.

Instead, the last remaining strength in my legs gave out and I nearly fell over. If Fenris hadn't noticed and grabbed me, the stone ground and I would have gotten better acquainted. This did stop Fenris and Anders from arguing, but now they're all freaking out a little bit.

"Boys, we can argue with one another at a later time. We have a wounded elf on our hands." Hawke seemed to be the voice of reason in this little group. Everybody rushed over to crowd around me all at once, following Hawke's lead.

Anders nodded. "Let's get her out of here. She looks about ready to faint any second now. When's the last time that bastard fed her?"

Varric shook his head. "If we ever run into that guy again, Bianca gets the first hit. Treating a lady like this, it's not proper." He was still trying to be funny, even though he was worried about me.

"No need to fuss over me, I'm just a little tired, that's all…" A little? When I fall asleep, I doubt a powerful earthquake could wake me up. Even so, I didn't want them to worry. A little rest and I'd be all right.

Fenris clearly didn't believe me from the look I was getting. "Even so, we're leaving at once. Mage…I may require your assistance…"

"Hmmm, now the brooding elf has manners. I hope the young lady sticks around, she seems to have a positive impact on Fenris." Said elf ignored Anders' comment as he scooped me up, much to my disdain because of my fear that I was hurting him with the markings, and the group split up, Anders following us across Hightown with Hawke and the dwarf leaving in the opposite direction.


End file.
